The Play
by skippingthistown
Summary: To him they were all actors, but she was the only exception.


The Play

A/N: So I found this on my computer and thought what the heck, let's finish the darned thing. Hope you enjoy! Reviews are love, and I think you guys are awesome!

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING

Act One: Watching

Draco Malfoy stared off the top of the tower, looking down at the world below him. The grass was a brilliant green, seeming to cover the ground with an emerald floor. Bright spots of color became the actors on the stage, playing their parts perfectly.

There were the rulers, scattered across the lawns. They were the beautiful, the rich, and the powerful. As the elite, they went through life in a series of dancing steps, floating over the rest of the mundane characters to rise to the top. But he knew as well as they did that their lives were riddled with lies, each wearing a mask to keep their illusion of perfection.

Then the people in waiting, holding on to the scraps of attention their superiors gave off to them. To the blind eye they were nothing but idiotic leeches, more ambition than anything else. But underneath the façade was a brilliance and cunning that could take down the powerful. He supposed, however, that they were more interested in being just below rather than at the top, for their own undisclosed reasons.

Scattered around them were the rest of the characters, those whose lives had no place in the play and yet were more important than the rest. The peasants, the artists, the workers. Without them there would be no one to rule, no one to lead. Draco understood better than most that they were the system, they were the important players. The elite may capture your attention, but they passed by like the flame in a candle. But the rest of them were different. They were the comfort of a home, a belief. They were the knowledge that no matter what, there would always be something to fall back on.

In his mind, Draco Malfoy had no role in this play. He was as powerful as the rulers, as cunning as the waiting, as important as the peasants. But he supposed, out of all of the people on the stage, he could play his part the best. No matter what he really was, who he wanted to be, who he really was, there was always a part to play. The Slytherin prince, the bratty schoolboy, the respectful son, the charming young man, the Death Eater, these were only a few of his parts. His lines were endless, his acts to many to count.

He saw, with an abstract sort of detachment, the only other actor that could fill his role. She was spinning around the emerald floor, white skirt flying out to twirl around her like a lily spinning through a pond. Draco knew that if he looked hard enough he would see platinum blonde hair much like his own, circling a face with deer eyes so blue they glinted like sapphires. Draco knew that if he looked harder still, he would see her tiny hands atop her skirt, keeping it from floating up away to the clouds like it so desperately wanted to.

A light smile touched his lips now as he watched her spin around. She had no role, simply existing in a world of players who watched her with mingled disgust and envy. Unlike him, she played no part, had no lines. Hers was a world of improvisation, and she was the character. The names they stuck to her flitted off her person like the way her skirt floated away from her body. She was nothing, and yet she was everything he desperately wanted to be. Luna Lovegood was something new, something bright, something innocent in a world that sought to destroy everything like her.

As if sensing his thoughts, the twirling figure below turned her face to the sky, opening her mouth in a soundless melody.

Another smile tugged at Draco's lips, upturning his mouth. A billow of cloth was all that signaled his silent departure from the tower, into the play below.

Act Two: Acting

His entrance onto the lawn was magnificent in its elegance and subtlety. He was noticed by all, yet no fanfare preceded him. Walking over to the group of Slytherins near a weeping willow by the lake, Luna Lovegood watched Draco slip on his mask as the play began.

The interaction between him and the rest of his house was interesting in its complexity. To the outside, they all looked like a well oiled machine, yet Luna knew this to be a lie. The further you dug into the politics of their House, the more evident it was that while the other actors fought for the lead role, he would simply watch the show, comforted in his knowledge that he would never be replaced. No one else could work the play as well as he did, she realized as she spun about. He made the lines; the stage was of his own invention. He was a puppeteer, and they were all on his string.

For this she pitied him. Even if he made his play, he still had a part to act out. A new mask every moment, and she wondered what he looked like without it.

The first raindrop on her upturned forehead made her smile, the second made her flutter her eyes closed, and the ensuing downpour made Luna stop her spinning and simply stand in the rain, all thoughts of the play forgotten, a new dream taking its place.

Act Three: Rain

Draco watched as the people around him began to panic at the feel of raindrops on their skin. The mass of running people, headed to the doors of the Great Hall, would have dragged him with them if he hadn't seen Luna Lovegood standing in the rain, face upturned and hands out to her sides.

As if in a trance, the man walked to her, the masks dropping away behind him like a snake shedding his skin. He ended up in front of her, looking down at the girl below him. Her smiling face was splattered with raindrops, her white skirt turning transparent from the water. A small part of his mind noticed that her shoes were at least five feet away from her, but the larger part of his mind was working to understand how such an innocent thing could live and thrive in the world he knew.

Her eyes opened to look up at him, her smiling mouth parting to speak to him.

"Hello Draco, how are you today?" Completely disregarding any previous hurts or wrongs done to her by him, she asked a simple question that nevertheless rocked his world off its axis for a few moments. She looked patiently at him, smile never wavering.

His wits returned to him, his mouth opened to speak. "Wonderful Luna, how are you?"

Her smile grew brighter, blinding him. "Quite well. Would you like to dance with me?"

His answer was to kick off his shoes and socks, take her hand, and twirl her across the lawn. They danced to nothing but their own whims, elegant waltzes running into a fast paced tango. His smile was almost as bright as hers, for a moment all thoughts of the play around them being forgotten.

Draco had no idea how long it had been since they started dancing. The only thing bringing him back to reality was Luna's light shiver in his arms. Looking down, for the first time he noticed how her yellow tank top was completely soaked through, her body covered in goosebumps. And yet she still smiled.

For the first time in his life, Draco dropped every mask, threw away every line, and acted on impulse.

When they walked into the Great Hall, the quite was almost tangible. When they noticed his cloak on her shoulders, the shock ran like a river. And when they saw he was as soaked through as much as she was, the roar of conversation was louder than words could describe.

But he had discarded the masks, left behind every role he had ever played, and Draco Malfoy never felt happier. The girl under his arm smiled up at him, her doe eyes blinking once in content.

Luna Lovegood and Draco Malfoy were many things from that day on, but never actors again.

_Fin_


End file.
